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“Stranos is closed tonight,” he said with meaning.
“You’ll have to make do with me then,” she replied in what she hoped matched their usual teasing tone.
“We’ll have to make do with each other.”
Mr. Butler appeared with wine glasses in his unobtrusive way. Jack poured two glasses, and handed one to Phryne.
“To love,” he said, raising his glass.
Phryne tipped her head in the way that Jack so often did at her. She laughed gently. “For you, Jack.” She clinked her glass with his. “But I think I’ve seen too much of love’s darker side to regard romantic overtures and grand declarations with anything but suspicion. I can never quite believe them.”
Jack nodded and he sat in the chair next to hers. “Quite right. How did you put it once? Suspicion is our stock and trade.” He paused to take a sip. Jack met her eyes as he spoke again. “I think that for people like you and me, love isn’t that same as it is for others. I think we have our own set of rules. It isn’t about being swept away. For us, it is, perhaps, not that different from solving a mystery.”
She laughed softly. “Intriguing theory.”
He continued, “There are clues if you watch for them, and when you have enough of them, they become evidence. If you examine all the evidence, the romantic overtures that lead to grand declarations will be as natural as accusing a murderer.”
Phryne looked down at her drink. Her face was inscrutable. When she met his eyes again, he saw sadness there. Her tone was light when she said, “I must not be as good a detective as I like to think then because I seem to miss those kinds of clues.”
Jack set his empty glass down and slowly leaned close to Phryne. He noted her look of surprise, but she made no attempt to move away. Jack drank in her scent. His cheek was close to hers, though not touching, when he whispered in her ear. “I’ll make sure the clues are very obvious then.” He kissed her cheek lightly. Her breath slowed, and he hoped that meant she took his meaning clearly. He was done with their flirtatious game. He meant to state his intentions and let her decide what she was willing to give him.
He stood up. “Good night, Miss Fisher.”
“Good night, Jack.” Phryne met his eyes again. She wondered what he saw on her face. Considering she hardly knew what she was feeling just then, she could hardly expect him to understand what she didn’t herself. He smiled a small smile and turned to go.
Phryne pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them close. She adored her work with Jack from the very beginning. At first, it was fun to tease him and get to the clues before he did, but they’d quickly grown to a place of mutual respect. They relied on each other. They’d saved each other’s lives, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. But love? she thought. That was not something she allowed herself to want. Especially not with Jack. He was too important to risk.
--
Phryne hesitated for the briefest of seconds as she saw Jack approaching the morgue. It was the first time they’d seen each other since the night he made his intentions known to her. She hadn’t been sure how to take that. What was I expecting? Flowers and daily calls? Whatever they were to each other, they weren’t lovesick teenagers. They both liked their space. Still, she wondered if something would be different between them now.
She needn’t have worried. They fell immediately into their usual teasing. She hid a small smile as they entered the morgue; then she forced herself to focus on the case in front of them.
Maybe it was her relief at the fact that it was business as usual with Jack or maybe her inhibitions were down from getting so little sleep the night before. Maybe it was his reply when she said that no kid from Collingwood would ever cooperate with the police. His words, “What about the one I’m looking at?” were hardly so different from something he might have said to her in the past, but it felt different just then. She kept it playful. “I thought you were cooperating with me.”
It was hard to imagine anyone knowing her as well as Jack did. He knew where she came from, what she’d been through in the War, and he always knew where she was going with their cases. Was that supposed to be a clue? she thought. It’s hardly as obvious as he promised. Still, she found herself sharing the story of the first time she stole something. She didn’t often share stories from her unhappy childhood with anyone, including Jack.
As they parted ways, she wondered how else she had changed from the Collingwood kid she had been.
---
From there, the clues seemed more obvious than ever. Every word and action seemed like a reminder of how well he knew her. Then there was the moment in the parlor when his hand lingered on her neck. It had surprised her that he would be so bold, but she let the warmth from his touch envelope her. She could get used to this kind of clue.
When he pinned the swallow brooch to her dress, she looked at him with new eyes. Her voice was heavy with emotion when she said, “They’ll have to fight me for it.” How did he always know just what she wanted? Even when she didn’t.
Phryne began to watch Jack as closely as she watched the suspects in their cases. He never pushed. He never demanded. He listened to her and respected her in a way that no one else did.
Maybe he is right about love, after all, she thought. Maybe we can write our own rules. Phryne hardly acknowledged the hope that had begun to build in her that this might be true.
They saved each other’s lives again. They waltzed. They played tennis. Everything felt like a clue. It was confusing how much evidence had piled up, and Phryne wished more than ever that she was the romantic overture sort.
There was no one else she confided to as she did Jack. That night on the lawn of the Wren Institute, she let herself be vulnerable. She listed her fears about her father. As always, Jack comforted her with a respectful tone. He never treated her like a distraught woman or seemed to regard her as such.
“Maybe he has just gone back to England after all.” she grasped at straws.
“If they’re right about the universe, and it’s all expanding. England is just getting further away.” His words seemed light, but she knew that he was telling her that things change, not to be afraid.
“It all looks very still to me,” she said softly.
“That’s because you’re not a telescope.” There it was again. He seemed to be speaking in a language only they understood. Step back, he was saying. Look at all the evidence and see what’s there.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She wanted to go back to the playfulness they had always shared.
“More like a romantic overture.”
She turned to look at him. Her heart filled with the same warmth she felt when he touched her. The moment felt like a dream. It was almost too much. “Is that the best you can do?” she said with a small smile.
“Would you like me to improve on it?” he asked and any caution she had melted away at the sound of his voice asking her Are you ready? In truth, she didn’t know if she was ready for what this meant, but she knew she wanted it.
“More than anything.” All her heart in those words. He paused for a second, and in that slow and purposeful way of his, he pulled her close.
Phryne’s mind was whirling, and her body was electric. It always seemed in those moments, when she was most distracted, that she found the clues they needed. This clue wasn’t one of Jack’s. It was for the case at hand, and the moment was over as suddenly as it had begun.
--
She wasn’t sure any of it sunk in properly until she was sitting with her father after everything that had happened. He was bloody, but okay. “Your mother was always the one for me. The only one.” Phryne had never considered that her father really loved anyone, much less her mother. She’d never believed her mother when she’d spoken of the way that she had fallen in love with her father. She didn’t believe in love. And yet, here it was. Right in front of her.
It’s true that she didn’t think through her decision to fly her father back to England before she decided to do it. But in that moment, it seemed the least she could do. For love. If there was a possibility that it was real, then she had to do this.
The day was a whirlwind of travel and wedding preparations for Dot and Hugh. Phryne kept her mind occupied to still her anxious heart. There was much to do, and she would rather do than wonder what her new perspective might mean for her. And Jack.
--
Jack. The plane was already started. One minute later, and he would have missed her. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here.
They met in the middle.
“You’re flying all the way to England in that?” I don’t want you to go.
“It’s the only way I can make sure he’ll get there.” I have to go. She meant it. She had to do this. But he was here, and her heart was happier than she had imagined possible. “Come after me.” She hadn’t planned to say that, but she meant it.
“What did you say?” Are you sure?
“It was a romantic overture.” I’m all in.
“Say it again.” I’ll take you at your word.
“Come after me, Jack Robinson.”
He pulled her close and kissed her firmly. It was brief, but full of promise.
--
Jack drove away from the airfield with his mind reeling. He’d imagined so many ways that he and Phryne might finally get to their romantic overtures, and none of his imaginings had ended with Phryne dashing off after a clue or flying off to England. He realized now how foolish that was. Of course, Phryne would have her own map. He kept up with her more than anyone else, and he was still caught off guard by her impetuous nature.
Come after me, she had said. Their words often had a meaning that went beyond what was spoken, but those words had been plain. Nothing but sincerity in her face. It wasn’t a challenge. It was an invitation. She’d never looked more beautiful than in that moment.
Could he go after her? How could he not? He struggled to find a way to make it work. It would take months to travel to England. She may well be on her way back by the time he got there.
Without thinking about it, he had driven to 221B The Esplanade. Even without her there, her house where they had spent so much time had a kind of magnetism for him. He watched as Mr. Butler got the morning post, and he had an idea.
Mr. Butler did not seem at all surprised to see Jack at the door. “Inspector, to what do I owe the honor?”
“Mr. Butler, you have always been a man who knows how to make thing happen. Tell me, how soon could I get to England? Can you make that happen?”
“Of course, sir,” Mr. Butler didn’t bat an eye at the request. “If you can arrange to leave tomorrow, you can fly with me.”
Jack couldn’t hide his surprise. “You fly?”
“Oh, no, not me personally.” He laughed. “I had mentioned to Miss Fisher that I would love to see London again. I haven’t been since the war. She thought that was a wonderful idea, and made the arrangements for me to fly with some connection of hers. Miss Fisher mentioned that there was room for one more if I happened to know someone else who wanted to fly to England.”
Jack was stunned. She’d surprised him again.
Mr. Butler continued, looking at an itinerary now, “We’ll arrive in London in just less than a month, and I’ll ready Miss Fisher’s flat for her arrival. Miss Fisher will be flying directly to her parents’ country estate and joining us in London a few days after we arrive.”
“So we’ll beat her there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack smiled.
--
Nearly a month later, Jack and Mr. Butler arrived in London. As they made their way to Miss Fisher’s flat, Jack stared out the window of the cab without seeing the city. It all felt like a dream. Mr. Butler, ever astute, did not try to fill the silence.
So this was her city, Jack thought. It was her home for far longer than she has lived in Melbourne. Longer than he has known her.
He tried not to let doubt get the better of him.
This would only work if they both believed it would.
--
Phryne was nearly asleep in the back of the cab. She hadn’t been able to sleep on the train or the night before. The journey to England had seemed endless, and the week with her parents’ country home had taken a lot out of her. They seemed happy, and she was so very happy for them. But she needed time away from them.
And she wondered what waited for her in London.
“Here we are, Miss.”
Phryne paid the driver and walked to the front door of her flat while the driver gathered her bags. She had sent word to Mr. Butler that she would arrive tonight, so she should be expected.
Of course, Mr. Butler greeted her warmly at the door. She hugged him. He may be her butler, but he had become like family to her.
“The Inspector is in the library, Miss.” Mr. Butler said kindly.
Phryne smiled. She nodded her thanks and dashed up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, she ducked into her room to look in the mirror. She smoothed her hair a bit, but decided against refreshing her make up. She felt too breathless to take the time.
Phryne forced herself to slow down. At the door to the library, she stopped to get her breath. Jack was leaning against the window frame looking out. “Hello, Jack,” she said. He turned to her voice.
“Hello, Miss Fisher,” he said. Phryne tried to contain her smile. Everything about him--his three piece suit, his gravelly voice, and his formal address--it made her heart sing. How she had missed the way he looked at her. She sighed a little and averted her gaze. She laughed softly.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” I’m glad you’re here.
“I’m here.” For you.
She walked up to him. Stopped just before touching him. “Jack,” she began, “I have received more grand declarations than I deserve, and even a few marriage proposals but I’ve never believed any of them.” Pause. “No one has ever flown halfway around the world for me.” She reached her hands up to his lapels in the way she had a habit of doing. She felt his hands on her hips, but he didn’t pull her closer.
She met his eyes. “I believe you.” She leaned in for a kiss. It was tentative, more so than he might have expected from her. Jack pulled her close and moved one of his hands from her hip to her back. He felt her nerves dissolve at his encouragement, and they deepened the kiss.
--
Jack tried to get out of bed without disturbing Phryne, but as she was taking up most of the space, it was a difficult task. Her eyes opened sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Early,” he said. “Go back to sleep.” She snuggled into the blankets obligingly. But retorted, “You’re not an early riser, are you? If so, I take back all my declarations of love last night. I can’t abide an early riser.”
He chuckled. “I think for a declaration of love to count, you actually have to say the words, Miss Fisher.”
Her eyes were open now, and she was looking at him playfully. “What about actions, Jack? Don’t actions count for anything?” She grabbed his hand and pulled him back into bed.
Later that morning, Mr. Butler knocked at the usual time. “Good morning, Miss.” He said as he entered the room with a tray. “I have your tea, coffee for the Inspector, the morning papers, and a telegram for the Inspector which arrived this morning.”
“Thank you, Mr. Butler!” Phryne called in appreciation as he swept out of the room as quickly as he entered. Phryne stepped out of bed to reach the tray on the chest of drawers. She looked back at Jack and laughed at his expression. “Get used to it,” she grinned.
“It’ll take a while for me to get used to being served in your bed.” he said with that smile/frown of his she loved so much.
Phryne handed him his coffee, and replied teasingly, “Why, Inspector, does that mean you plan to be with me for a while?”
He reached for the coffee, but kept her eyes. “Miss Fisher, I plan to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.” He wasn’t teasing.
They stayed like that for a moment. Both holding the saucer of the coffee. Phryne thought her heart might explode.
“Now that I’ve had you, Inspector, I can’t imagine ever letting you go.”
She looked away with a smile. “Your telegram,” she looked for an excuse to move the conversation away from whatever future they may or may not have or when she may or may not get tired of him. It was too much to think about for now.
She busied herself with her tea and the paper while he read the telegram. “The Victorian Constabulary is asking me to assist on a case with Scotland Yard. Apparently it is of some international importance or they would not ask me to interrupt my holiday.”
“Now that is intriguing!” Phryne hopped back into bed excitedly. “Our first London case already!”
“Our first London case, Miss Fisher?”
She just smiled innocently.